


the rooftop

by The3rdTrumpeteer



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Beware, Blood, Character Death, I'm so sorry for this, Implied/Referenced Suicide, this is not a happy story at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 06:10:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17278556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The3rdTrumpeteer/pseuds/The3rdTrumpeteer
Summary: Crutchie and Jack are still on the rooftop when it starts to rain. They both get down, one faster than the other.





	the rooftop

It starts raining early in the morning before the circulation bell has rung. The storm comes quickly, so quickly that Crutchie and Jack are still on the roof sleeping. When the first drops hit Crutchie’s nose, he stirs and stares up at the sky. He sits up and calls to Jack, who has not yet woken up. Jack opens his eyes and yawns, and before he can ask Crutchie why he’s woken him up so early, it starts to pour, fat droplets that pound the roof with a vengeance and in seconds, the two newsies are drenched.

“My leg didn’t even feel strange,” Crutchie shouts over the sound of the storm as he and Jack hurry to gather their belongings.

“Yeah, so much for reliable weather predictin’, huh?” Jack jokes and gives Crutchie a light shove. Normally it wouldn’t be hard enough to unbalance him, but Crutchie slips in the wetness of the roof and stumbles. His bad leg tangles in the blanket he was leaning down to grab, and he falls.

Off the roof.

It all happens in seconds, and Jack doesn’t even have time to react, to shout or grab for Crutchie or do  _anything_  before his closest friend in the world disappears over the edge of the roof with little more than a strangled squeak.

“Fuck.” The word rips itself from Jack’s lips, and he drops, trying to grab Crutchie’s hand or the blanket that is still wrapped around his leg or even his vest, but it’s too late and the rooftop is too wet and Jack’s hands are too slick to catch anything and Crutchie is-

Crutchie is on the ground far below; Jack can barely see him because of the rain that is still falling, running into his eyes and obscuring his vision. Jack can’t tell what kind of shape Crutchie is in, and perhaps he should thank whatever ever-present being is in the sky for that, but he doesn’t. Because he knows what happens when someone falls that far. And he remembers what it looks like when they hit the ground. There was an article in the paper a few months ago. There were pictures of the suicide. That headline sold well.

Jack doesn’t cry because he thinks that if he does, it means that Crutchie is really, truly gone. Maybe he’s okay. Maybe somehow the blanket protected him or he caught something on the way down or this is all just a fucked-up nightmare-

The ladder is slippery, and Jack has to hold on tightly to keep himself from joining Crutchie on the cobblestones. A few more rungs, and he’s standing on the ground, staring at the brick wall of the lodging house because if he looks away he might see-

Finally Jack tears his eyes away from the wall. No one has come outside yet. Perhaps they are still asleep. The rain is so loud, though, surely  _someone_  has woken up.

“Help,” Jack whispers. He forces himself to look down, and what he sees brings him to his knees beside his brother. Crutchie could be sleeping were it not for the twisted angle of his good leg and the part of his head that’s leaking...it’s leaking-

“HELP!” It’s a desperate scream now, and this time Jack doesn’t stop until he hears the slamming of the front door and the sound of footsteps rushing toward him. There’s a gasp and a swear. Jack looks up, and there’s Specs standing there, his glasses sitting haphazardly on his face. Race is beside him. Neither of them are wearing shoes. Both of them look horrified.

“What happened?” Specs kneels next to Jack and stares down at Crutchie. “Jack, what the  _fuck_  happened?”

“We...we was on the roof when the storm started.” Jack looks back at Crutchie, and suddenly he can’t tear his eyes away from his friend’s body, from his eyes that are still open and his mouth that is frozen in a grimace. And his head is-

“We gotta help ‘im,” Jack says. “We gotta-”

“We can’t,” Specs interrupts, and his voice cracks. “We can’t do nothin’ ‘bout this.”

“Did he fall?” Race asks. His eyes are red from crying. “Jack, you gotta tell us what happened.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jack says. He can’t stop staring at Crutchie’s eyes. There is no light in them, and it’s wrong.

“Didn’t mean to?” Specs looks confused.

“We was jokin’!” There’s no light in Crutchie’s eyes. “And I...and he tripped...” There’s no light in Crutchie’s eyes.

“Jack...” The rest of Race’s words fade into nothingness. There’s no light in Crutchie’s eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: @poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow  
> my twitter: @its_spinning


End file.
